


A Dream Deferred

by Talullah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silly dreams sometimes come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Deferred

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to jaiden_s for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for the aperfectdot, who requested Orophin/Glorfindel, black cherries, pine trees, whipped cream.
> 
> Title from a poem by Langston Hughes.
> 
>  **Prompts:** fanfic100 prompt 097: writer's choice. contrelamontre May 17th 2008 prompt: dreams. 60 minutes.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**Imladris, 1325 First Age**

The landscape was incredible. It lacked the golden sheen of tranquility that bathed Lothlórien, but it was alive and vibrant and promised adventure. Orophin had been outside the borders of Lothlórien on more than one occasion, but nothing before the scenic view of Imladris had caught his eye. The other members of his company, who like him, visited the valley for the first time were also in silent awe. Their captain waived his hand and the troops quickly gathered their belonging and set forth marching down the valley, leaving behind no signs of their lunch on the grass.

They marched for a day and a half before they found themselves aligning in front of the Last Homely House, waiting for the legendary Elrond Peredhel to greet them. As much as Orophin valued his king and good Sinda blood, he had to admit that the half-elf was a sight to be seen and a very competent lord, judging from what Orophin had heard and seen so far. The welcoming speech barely made it to his ears. He dreamed already of all the things that waited to be discovered in the valley.

* * *

Orophin sighed in frustration. His stay at the valley had not been unpleasant at all, but after three months of training he still felt like an archer, not a swordsman. He did alright with his fellow recruits, but as soon as he tried to spar with their Imladrian instructors, things started going awry. His hand hurt from the impact of a blow that had torn his sword from his hand as if it were a toy... for the third time that day. Sparring only looked graceful and easy to those who watched. He went to the pumps by the barracks to wash his face and neck and give some respite to his battered hand. It was then that he heard voices speaking of a group of orcs west of the border of Imladris, but coming suspiciously close. One of the voices defended that they should observe the creatures and deflect them with the defence system based on the illusions and magic that protected Imladris. The other voice vehemently argued for wiping the foul beasts from this earth before they had the chance of hurting someone.

"But Glorfindel," said the first voice, "don't you see that even if no orc survives to tell the tale sooner or later this region will become conspicuous for making all orc bands disappear? This is the 'Hidden' valley..."

"Which has been under siege once, so it's not really that secret."

"But surely you must see that..."

The voices started drifting away as the captain and the lord left for the training grounds. In this heart, Orophin agreed with Glorfindel. He had been thoroughly infatuated with the noble Elf, but that was not part of his reasoning. He, too, preferred preventive action to this kind of stealthy defence.

Looking around, he saw no one. On an impulse, he took a peek inside the captain's office and saw the map on the wall with the little red pins signalling the orcs. Six. Too many for a single Elf in a sword combat... but wasn't he an archer first and foremost?

* * *

Tracking the band down had not been too hard. The valley was much smaller than Lothlórien and the border was easily reached. From the top of a pine tree, Orophin heard more than saw the beasts. He could be terribly conspicuous if they ever looked up, but he had climbed that tree in a hurry to avoid an Imladrian soldier who, like him, watched the band. When the Elf had retreated, surely to deliver more news of the Orcs' progress, Orophin had searched for a more sensible cover of an oak. He slowly progressed until he was right by the Orc camp. There were ten orcs, not six. He tried to think. In his mind he know he could never shoot down enough of them before being spotted but... but... dreams of a proud Glorfindel congratulating him were too tempting. He nocked an arrow and let it fly, hitting the farthest orc on the forehead.

The second had an arrow protruding from his eye socket before the third started turning around in shock. The slight movement was not enough for Orophin to miss his shot, but the arrow ripped the orc's throat open, giving him a slower death than Orophin would have preferred. The orcs were now alert and running for cover. Orophin managed to hit a fourth on the back and a fifth on the leg. The remaining five had now successfully taken shelter, and the first few arrows were haphazardly shot in his direction. He saw a glimpse of a sleeve and waited until the owner revealed more of himself. Six. The other four remained carefully hidden and a dangerous stalemate had been reached. Orophin tried to think of a way of luring them out when a sharp pain burned his arm. He jerked away, tearing cloth and flesh in the process, and looked for better cover. The sneaky, filthy little orc kept shooting his poison arrows and a second grazed his cheek. The other three orcs circled the bottom of the tree, trying to get an angle to shoot him down. Orophin tried jumping to the next tree, but the poison was already taking its toll on him. The last thing he thought as he fell to the ground and into blackness was 'stupid'.

* * *

Well, sometimes luck outranks stupidity. After a month of fevers spent mostly unconscious, Orophin sat in a well-lit room, in a comfortable bed, slowly healing from the poison. His instructors had visited him and had been as harsh as he deserved for his insubordination and bad risk assessment. The Elf who had saved his life, the Imladrian sentinel he had avoided, had also passed by, chiding him with an indulgent smile. His fellow recruits spent all their free time with him. Orophin was being pampered for the first time since his childhood and he was enjoying it... except for the intense shame he felt for his stupidity.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting his musings. Orophin bade him to come in, distractedly removing his eyes from his book to the door. His heart lept and he hurriedly sat up.

"Lord Glorfindel!"

"Relax, young fool," Glorfindel replied softly as he entered the room, carrying a bowl in his hand.

"I've brought you these," he said handing Orophin a bowl with black cherries and dash of whipped cream on top. "Note that this is not a reward for foolhardiness."

Orophin blushed as he took the bowl. "I'm sorry, sir. I know it was stupid."

"And reckless. But the Valar smiled upon you so..."

Glorfindel sat on the bed beside Orophin, inspecting the discarded book as Orophin tasted the first cherries.

"Hah! 'Treatise for Finer Swordsmanship.' A dull little volume."

Orophin almost choked on the cherries.

"I heard that you called my name in your fever."

Orophin felt trapped by the bedding and uncomfortably hot. He fixed his eyes on the cherries as if his life depended on it.

"I'm not here to humiliate you," Glorfindel said kindly. "I just want you to promise that you'll never do something like that again. For anyone. We want you alive." He caressed Orophin's flaming cheek with his knuckle and left.

* * *

The rest of Orophin's stay was innocuous. The teasing eventually died and he returned home to, in time, turn into a competent, trustworthy warrior.

He found love, or forms of it, here and there. Although for a while he carried a soft spot for the kind warrior lord who had not crushed him, in time it became nothing more than a fond, slightly amusing memory, the foolish dream of a youngster.

But times change, and with them the world spins. And so it was that Orophin found himself sailing into the great unknown that was Aman, guarding his lady. He stared every night at the darkness to the East, isolating himself from all company, high or low.

One evening, a warm hand laid its weight on his shoulder interrupting his ruminations. "We meet again," a deep voice said. Orophin turned immediately even though he had perfectly identified the owner of the voice. How could he have forgotten?

"Indeed, my lord," he replied with a bow.

In the twilight he could feel Glorfindel's gaze heavy upon his features.

"You have aged well. I like the way the softness of youth gave way to the strong angles of your adulthood. " Glorfindel may have referred to his face but Orophin could feel his stare burning trails down his body.

Orophin knew an invitation when he saw one. This carnal meeting was not the stuff of his adolescent dreams, but it was more than he had ever thought possible.

"Perhaps we should talk inside," he suggested. "I have Dorwinion. Maybe it's silly to take wine to the land of plenty, but I wanted a souvenir..."

Glorfindel barked a laugh. "I have a full case of miruvor. I feel more like I am leaving home than returning to it. Let's see about that Dorwinion, then," he added with a pat to Orophin's back.

The night went on as expected: the wine lubricated the conversation, the glances became overt flirting and soon enough there was casual touching, followed by lingering caresses until both were kissing fervently as they blindly searched the bed.

With morning, Orophin found Glorfindel lying by his side, staring at him. Acutely aware of the foul taste in his mouth and the likelihood of an accompanying dragon's breath, he contented in smiling warmly, blinking sleepily In fact, he was too surprised that Glorfindel was still there to know what to say. Glorfindel spared him the trouble.

"Last night was fine, very fine," he drawled running a knuckle down Orophin's cheekbone. "I'd like for it to happen again... and eventually without the wine."

Orophin nodded, trying to maintain his smile at an appropriate level.

"I'm not the staying kind, though," Glorfindel warned. "I'll make you no promises."

Again Orophin nodded. "Neither am I," he said. "And I'm all grown up - you don't have to do this."

"I like things clear."

"I do, too. But just let this flow. Too many words can be as bad as too few."

Glorfindel lowered his head and delivered a quick peck to Orophin's lips. "I have to get ready for the day. See you later."

The casual parting sat well with Orophin's mood. Suddenly, an innocent shag, a most-likely one-timer was trying to grow into something else, but what? He decided he would refuse to worry.

* * *

Later that day, Glorfindel came to the bow, same as the day before.

"Still staring back?"

"Aren't we all?"

Glorfindel's smiled waned. "I suppose. Come," he asked, offering his hand.

Orophin followed that night and all the remaining until they reached the white shores of Aman.

Then, Orophin assumed that their liaison would terminate without lengthy goodbyes or too much regret on either part. However, his heart was weighed by a sadness he cared not to name. Glorfindel had become a friend, more than a casual lover. Orophin was reasonable enough to see that what chance had put together could not survive once Glorfindel found his way back into his world, so different of what Orophin's would be.

* * *

Days passed, weeks even, as all strove to find their places. Occasionally, Orophin would see Glorfindel from afar, but save for a sad smile, there were no exchanges between them.

It was on the third market day that Orophin felt a pull on his arm as he inspected some absurd silver daggers on a stand. He let Glorfindel drag him to an alley, his heart thumping too loud to let any thought be heard.

Glorfindel pushed him against the wall and cut him off with an arm around his waist.

"I've missed you," he whispered into Orophin's ear. "I'm still not the staying kind but sometimes you feel like the only real thing here. I need you."

His throat moved dryly under Orophin's eyes. He cupped Glorfindel's neck with his hand and pulled him into a kiss.

"You don't have to stay. Just return," Orophin replied as they broke off.

"I'm starting to think that I have no choice. And I like it... as long as you let me return."

"Always," Orophin said, sealing the words with a kiss.

_Finis  
June 2008_


End file.
